Jumper Part 1
by Roolsilver
Summary: The first part in my Jumper series. Demona summons a spirit from another world to do her bidding, but something goes wrong. Who is this mysterious girl, and is she a friend, or a foe?
1. The Summoning

DISCLAIMER: Gargoyles currently belongs to Disney, is the intellectual property of Greg Weisman and the rest of the team who helped develop it, etc., etc. I don't own anything having to do with the rights to the show, comic books, movies, game, or anything else Gargoyles-related. You don't own it either. Unless you do. In which case I have fan-fits because you're reading this at all.

AN: Hey! It's me! rool! You don't know me yet, but you will. This is the first chapter of the first part of my first fic, but there is already a lot more to this fic, and others, you will see. Thank you Storyseeker for the great signed review on , so here it is, the first chapter, re-vamped, dedicated to you. Now read the fic!

**Jumper Chapter 1.1 : The Summoning**

_In my beginning is my end.-T. S. Eliot_

Demona etched the last line of the pentagram into the floor of the room and set up the proper wards to keep the spirits she was about to summon from breaking free. Lifting an aged scrap of paper in her hand, she carefully read each word to herself before lighting the last few candles and beginning the summoning. (AN: Use your imagination and translate any words in all caps into Latin for me. I couldn't find a translator.)

"MAGIC, BRING FORTH A SPIRIT! MAKE IT NOT OF THIS WORLD." A dense fog appeared above the pentagram.

"MAKE IT AS I AM, MAKE IT POWERFUL!" The fog formed a loose ball in the middle of the star shape.

"LET IT BE LOYAL, LET IT BE STRONG." The fog started to spin.

"LET IT HAVE AN INTELLIGENT MIND, TO BE ABLE TO THINK AND ACT, AND MAKE IT KNOW THAT WHICH IS NEEDED." Strange lights appeared within the haze, flickering.

"GIVE HER A HEART LIKE-"

Boom! Something crashed above her head and she dropped the spell. A group of quarrymen fell through the rotting ceiling of the abandoned home. One stood on top of the pile of rubble and stared at Demona in awe.

"The Demon..." whispered the bulky man.

"None other," replied Demona coldly, reaching for her magic book. The quarryman noticed the fog, which was spinning quickly and spitting lights and flashes of unknowable things. He ran forward, Demona diving after him, and managed to barely break the line of the protective pentagram, knocking over one of the candles and scraping the lines on the floor with the edge of his gun. The ball of fog burst with a blinding flash of light as Demona threw the quarryman aside.

"No! You fool!" She muttered a few words in Latin which seemed to echo strangely and threw a cloth over where the pentagram had been so that it covered a large lump on the floor. She was about to start after the quarryman again when the sound of the police entering the house came from the front of the warehouse. She gathered the edges of the cloth she had thrown and ran, with something large and heavy inside of it. Around the back of the building she threw the bag into an old shopping cart, slipped on a large hooded coat which covered her to the ankles, and walked hunchedly in the other direction toward her home, just another crazy old homeless woman.

She kept to the shadowed alleys and side streets as she made her way from the dirty slums of the lower city up and into the densely wooded hillside, following a winding dirt road until she came to her house. She had called earlier that week from a cell phone that had been dropped in the subway, completely untraceable to her, ordering groceries for the 'reclusive authoress' who reputedly owned the house. She pushed her load into the garage and unlocked a door which led down to the basement. Hauling the bundle onto her back, Demona went down the stairs, depositing her burden on the concrete floor. She turned to the refrigerator to dig out something to eat when she heard a moan from behind her. She whirled, prepared to fight, only to see the large bundle on the concrete shift. Backing away, ready to bolt into her specially protected 'bomb shelter', she watched as the folds of cloth moved and slid open to reveal a white taloned hand.

The magically warded cloth, which was supposed to open only at Demona's touch, fell easily around the body of a young female gargoyle, pale as the moon. A tiny row of spikes ran along her hairline under the golden-tan lines of her hair and she appeared to be dressed in the torn remnants of human clothing- loose blue jeans and a black t-shirt. She stirred more, finally opening green eyes to stare around at her new surroundings.

"I... Where am I? How did I get here?" She leapt to her feet and whirled from side to side, eyes wide in panic. "What's on my back!" She turned in almost a full circle before she looked down at herself, seeing her wings as if for the first time.

"AAh! I have WINGS! And a Tail!"

"Calm yourself," said Demona angrily, glaring at the in her opinion unsatisfactory demon. "I have summoned you here for a purpose." The other female gargoyle turned to look at Demona.

"I…you?...Demona? How? Why can't I remember?" The young gargoyle looked like she was on the verge of tears, shaking her head in confusion. Demona took a new look at what she had summoned. It seemed that the spell had not been a failure after all- she had said for the demon she summoned to be as she was, and a gargoyle just reaching adulthood with no memories could be useful in a number of ways.

"I brought you here, child. Yes, I am Demona. I will be your mother now. You are here to help me get revenge on the ones who took my children from me. They stole you away from your family, and I rescued you from them. Sadly, I could not stop them from taking your memory from you. I can only hope that you will still trust me, after all we have both been through." The girl looked at Demona, processing her words. She didn't know whether to believe this stranger or not. The story made sense- she did have vague memories of faces and another place that felt very far away, and she had known Demona's name. But what was her own?

"What…did you know my name," she asked Demona. The older gargoyle looked at her for a moment, thinking.

"I shall call you Twillo. Now, I have a purpose for you. I will call you a taxi cab, which will take you to New York City. There you will see the tallest building in the world. Do NOT go there. That is the place where our enemies hide, waiting to attack us. There is also a large building with a clock tower at the top of it. Here you will wait, until you see a woman with dark hair and a red jacket come out. Her name is Elisa Maza. She is a police officer. You must follow her and find out her routine. Report back here to me in two weeks. Our enemies must not find out this location. If anyone follows you here, you will not survive. Come now, you will need a few things."

Demona led Twillo upstairs and gave her a hat and trenchcoat like the ones she used when she needed to pass for a human. The entire time she was explaining to the younger gargoyle how 'Their enemies' had cruelly attacked her repeatedly and had done the same to Twillo, who quickly agreed to help Demona save their families. Then she gave her some money to buy food and a bag with a notebook and pens to record what she saw, and soon the taxi pulled up. Twillo got in and tried to watch the route, but quickly fell asleep.

Twillo woke up as the cab rolled to a stop. She sat up and rubbed her eyes clear, exiting the cab with her bag. She looked around to see if she recognized anything, but it was all just a blur of cars and bright lights. The weather was just starting to change to autumn, making the night air chilly, but Twillo didn't notice the cold, sliding into the shadows of a building to look through her bag once again. Demona had given her a pair of gloves which had inserts in the fingertips so that her talons wouldn't rip the fabric, an pair of high boots with modified bottoms so that they would fit gargoyle feet, and a sock hat with flaps to cover her ears and the odd, almost hornlike spurs along her hairline. With these additions to her wardrobe Twillo was almost too warm, but it was nearly impossible to tell that she looked any different from the crowd around her. She knew that if she stepped out into the street, the cars may or may not stop, but wasn't willing to risk it. She hesitantly walked into a gas station and bought a map of the city, finding herself and the police station on the map. That was the name of the building Demona had described to her. The words all sounded familiar, bringing to mind more things she felt she should know more about. She knew what a police station was, and the people in it were the police, and they made people follow the law. But Demona had told her that this policewoman was their enemy, and everyone's open to corruption. She knew that much as well. She walked the few blocks between the two and stopped across the street from the building, looking up at the clock tower. Somehow it just didn't look right. Besides the fact that the tower was nearly destroyed, it seemed to be at the wrong angle. She looked behind her and up at the building that she had stopped in front of. Maybe from the top she could see it better. She walked around to the side and found a fire escape leading upward to the top of the building. She leapt up, catching the bottom rung of the ladder. She wiggled herself up until she could throw a knee up onto the bar, but her trench coat got in the way and she slipped off, landing flat on her back on the ground. She bit her lip- landing on those wings HURT! Wings. She had wings. Did that mean she could fly?

Twillo got to her feet and slipped out of her coat, making sure that no one could see her. She flexed her wings, getting used to the feel of them, and tried a small jump into the air, leaning forward. She glided for a few feet before her boots touched the ground. Looking around, she saw a tall dumpster. She climbed on top of it, gathering her coat and her bag, and launched herself across the alley at the ladder. She caught it easily and climbed up to the top of the building in time to see the woman Demona had spoken of getting into a car and driving away. She followed the woman in the red car through the heavy traffic, gliding from rooftop to rooftop through the city. When the car finally parked in front of an apartment building, Twillo followed the woman with her eyes, finally seeing her emerge out into the apartment at the top. It was a longer glide to that rooftop than she had been taking, but she decided that she could make it. Taking a running start she launched herself across the alleyway just as the first rays of the morning sun peeked over the horizon. She was sure she would make it with plenty of space to spare, but searing pain shot through Twillo's entire body and she rolled as she hit the next rooftop. She crashed down through the skylight and landed unconscious on the floor of the apartment.


	2. Adventures in Babysitting

**Jumper Chapter 1.2 : Adventures in Babysitting**

_Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk._-Henry David Thoreau

"Yeah, thanks Morgan," said Elisa, putting the phone back on the cradle as she turned to look at the intruder. The girl had finally woken up and looked ate Elisa with huge frightened eyes. Elisa took a step toward her and she flinched.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm not here to hurt you," said Elisa softly, reaching out her hand to the girl. The girl didn't say anything back, just tugged at the handcuffs holding her down.

"I can't let you go until you talk to me," said Elisa, picking up her telephone again and this time dialing her brother's phone number at the Labyrinth.

"Talon speaking," came a voice from the other side of the line.

"Derrik? It's Elisa. I've got a girl here, and I'm trying to find out who she is. Have any of yours disappeared in the last few days?"

"It's hard to tell. We always have a lot of young kids coming in and out, what's her name?"

"She won't talk to me. I know she can, she just won't. Early teens, blonde hair, green eyes, and it seems like she's been eating normally, wherever she's been. That's why I thought she'd been one of yours. Her clothes are in ruins, just jeans and an old shirt, but she's got a coat that looks new with her. The only other things she has are gloves, boots, and a bag with a blank notebook and a map of New York."

"We haven't had any like that lately," said Derrik from the Labyrinth. "Could she be a runaway who's had a tough night or two?"

"I don't think so. She had a couple bucks on her, but no wallet or purse. Could you send somebody up here to my apartment to watch her? I've got to go to the station. While I'm there I can check the missing persons reports to see if anyone's looking for her."

"Okay sis. I'll have a couple of guys come up as soon as they can."

"Be careful, she seems scared."

"Where'd you find her?"

"She came crashing down into my apartment from the roof. She's been out for a few hours, but her vitals are fine. She looked like she could use the rest, so I didn't wake her until now."

"When was this?"

"As a matter of fact, it was right at sunrise."

"Could this have anything to do with Demona?" Derrik asked, worried.

"I don't think so. She doesn't look evil Der, just scared. I'm not even sure she knows how she got here."

"I'm sending up Claw too then. Just in case, and he's good at calming people down, once they get over the first shock. He might even recognize her, if she's been through without my seeing her. He likes to visit all the people, especially the kids."

"Alright. See you later bro." Elisa hung up and turned back to the girl. "I'm going to take your handcuffs off," she said cautiously, getting the key.

"But no running away, or it's back you go. Understand?" Twillo nodded nervously and Elisa released her, allowing her to sit up and rub her wrists and ankles where the handcuffs had chafed.

"So are you going to talk to me yet?" asked Elisa, looking at Twillo expectantly. Twillo shook her head, frightened again.

"Alright then, be that way. Are you hungry?" Twillo nodded again, a hopeful look coming into her eyes, and Elisa got out a few cans of soup and put them all into a big pot to warm up. Twillo sat quietly on a stool, looking at everything around the apartment. When the food was almost done the doorbell rang and three figures stepped in, one with a hooded coat that covered his entire body.

"Thanks for coming up you guys. I'll be back before eight. There's food on the stove."

"No problem Elisa. We'll see if she won't talk to us a little. You being a cop can be pretty intimidating to a scared kid." Elisa headed out the door and the three men stepped inside, one going to the stove to test the soup, taking off the fire and pour it into four bowls. He set the table and searched the drawers until he found the spoons. The man with the coat went over and put a friendly hand on Twillo's shoulder, then went and hung his coat on the hook by the door. Twillo stared at him for a moment in shock. Tiger stripes? Wings?

"C...Claw?" she wondered out loud. The other men turned to her in surprise that she knew his name. Claw nodded at her.

"You're Claw? From...from the... Why can't I remember anything? Are you one of the good guys?" Claw nodded again, raising his extra-large sized wooden spoon. Elisa kept several for when the gargoyles would come over.

"So you've lost your memory?" asked one of the men, trying to be helpful.

"I guess so. I don't remember anything before last night," replied Twillo nervously. Wasn't this the kind of situation Demona had told her to avoid? Should she tell them what had really happened? No, not yet. Detective Maza had called them, and that meant that they were on her side. After spending the entire day in silence and barely eating for fear of something unknown in her food, she wouldn't waste her effort by telling everything to these new strangers, even if she seemed to recognize one of them. What if she recognized him because he had helped steal her family away? She didn't know who to trust!

"I remember being on the roof, and falling, and then I woke up here," she said. The man looked at her for a moment longer, not really believing that she was telling the truth, but having no evidence to the contrary. The four sat in silence for the rest of the meal except for the three human men talking amongst themselves. Claw said nothing. Twillo felt there was a significance to this, but couldn't place it. They finished the soup and one of the men turned on the television, sitting down on the couch. The second joined him, but the last turned to her again.

"You remembered Claw. Have you been to the Labyrinth before?" Twillo felt nothing when the man mentioned the word. She shook her head no.

"How long have you been away from home?" he tried next. All Twillo could think of was that the sky outside was getting darker. Something clicked in her mind. She would turn back! The sun going down would do it! She didn't know where the knowledge came from, she just knew what would happen. They mustn't see her change into that…thing. That thing like Demona. They had mentioned her name, they knew who she was. She couldn't fight them, but she had to get out.

"I don't know. D-a woman…I mean, I don't remember. Can you let me leave, _please_? I have to go really soon. I don't want to stay here. That woman thinks I've done something wrong."

"Have you?" the man looked more intelligent than she liked, but she had to keep with the frightened girl theme.

"I was just trying to-"

The lock turned in the door and it began opening. Twillo saw her opportunity and made a run for it. She was halfway there when Claw simply picked her up by her shoulders gently, not hurting her. She sagged in his grasp, defeated. In walked another man in a trench coat, a hood pulled forward over his face, as Claw's had been. For some reason, Twillo felt like a mouse in a trap as the hood came down to reveal black, twitching ears. The panther-headed man looked her over, studying her face. He looked up at Claw after closing and locking the door, and the tiger-man put her down as carefully as he had picked her up after allowing one of the men to re-fit the handcuffs Elisa had taken off her earlier onto her wrists as the others told the newcomer what all had happened.

"She doesn't smell normal," said the panther-man. Claw nodded in agreement and lifted a wing as if gesturing at nothing. The panther-man nodded back.

"My name is Derrik," he said, addressing her again. We're not here to hurt you. Roy says you don't remember how you got here?"

Twillo shook her head negatively again, feeling cornered by the imposing person before her and very small. There was a window at her back which faced out onto a fire escape. If she could just get out there, maybe she could get away. She fidgeted nervously, waiting for a chance. It came, again, with the door. This time she had a plan. She waited quietly, trying her best to look afraid and beaten. She didn't have to try very hard, not with the day she'd had. As the five men went to greet Elisa at the door and tell her what had happened, Twillo did the only thing she could with her arms handcuffed in front of her. There was no way for her to get her coat, but she slung the strap of her bag around her shoulders and threw herself through the glass, shattering the window and landing on the fire escape. The people inside the apartment ran after her, but Claw and Derrik couldn't fit out the small window, and by the time Claw was out of the way, Twillo had managed to get to the ladder. Throwing the links of chain around one of the poles on the top was easier than she had thought it would be, and she rode the ladder to the next floor down, landing with a jerk but keeping her footing. She repeated this process until she reached the alleyway below, hanging from the handcuffs for a moment before scrambling off the last ladder. She could hear the men following, but they had to climb instead of simply fall. She took off as fast as she could and ran until she was far from the sounds of pursuit. The sun sank low on the horizon, not that she could see it, but she could almost feel where the sun was. She slipped back into an alleyway between two buildings and waited, knowing the pain was coming.

It hit her like a wall of bricks. She screamed, tearing her throat as her body changed form. The wings she remembered pushed and burst from her back, all the while her skin trying its best to keep up. The tail shot from her spine as her feet grew and she writhed on the dirty concrete for a few more moments before darkness took her. When she awoke, she was surprised that no one had come. Then again, when she thought of New York, she didn't get the feeling that people cared about what happened in the backs of dark alleys, just so long as it didn't involve them. The handcuffs, while still attached to her wrists, were no longer attached to each other. She looked up and saw another fire-escape ladder above her head. With a running start to get her there, she managed to reach the top of the building in fairly short time.

Twillo leapt across the gap between rooftops, using her wings to glide from wall to wall. Once she decided she was far enough away from Detective Maza's house she stopped to take a rest next to a greenhouse to catch her breath. She didn't realize that she was being watched.

"Guys, I think you should see this," said a voice into a radio, too far away for her to hear.

"What is it," came a deeper, almost growling voice from the other end.

"I don't know. It looks like one of us, but it's not flying. It might be a new mutate."

"Follow it. I'll send Broadway and Brooklyn to meet you." The great voice ended the connection.

Twillo started traveling again, not stopping until she slipped and nearly fell onto a fire escape. She used the ladders to make her way to the alleyway below, which caused the one following her to lose sight of her until he was distracted by the sounds of a struggle in the building across from her hiding place.

Twillo started violently as a green shape shot above her alleyway and into the broken window of a nearby shop. Shouting rang out after a moment and a man in a ski mask followed the creature back out of the window and toward her. The two grappled on the ground for a moment. Despite the man's larger size, the green creature was holding his own, and finally managed to knock the thug out. He looked extremely pleased with himself, and even started doing what Twillo's unreliable mind called a touchdown victory dance until he was bashed in the head with a crowbar by a second burglar. He went down hard, holding his head. The burglar grinned and rose to strike him again, but Twillo crept up behind him. This wasn't right, she knew that much. Before she realized what she was doing her tail swept his feet out from under him, throwing him to the pavement. His crowbar went flying into the air as he fell and she caught it more easily than she would have expected, giving him a blow of his own which sent him to join his compatriot in unconsciousness. She heard a groan and saw the green...gargoyle? staring at her wide eyed, but still dazed. Remembering Demona's caution about others of her kind, she panicked and ran, keeping to the shadows until she found another fire escape. Climbing it, she found an empty loft room to creep into and realized that when the day came the police would be looking for a girl in handcuffs, which she couldn't remove. She tore pieces of her tattered shirt from the bottom and covered them like wristbands, slipping into sleep with the crowbar still clutched in her hand.

Lex climbed unsteadily to his feet as a rush of air signified the late arrival of his promised backup.

"Did you guys see her?" he asked them, still clutching the spot where the thug had whacked his head. His red and blue clutchmates looked at him strangely.

"See who," asked the large, blue Broadway.

"The angel," murmured Lexington before tilting backward. Exchanging a confused look, his rookery brothers carried their unconscious smallest brother back to the castle between them after tying up the crooks for the police.

"He'll be fine, guys," assured Detective Elisa Maza when the three got back to their suite. "Someone just bashed him a good one. It's lucky you guys got there before they could do any real damage."

"We didn't," corrected Brooklyn, still confused. "He was like this when we got there, with two knocked out burglars next to him. We don't know what happened."

"Yeah, he was loopy, talking about some angel who saved him," added Broadway around a mouthful of spaghetti O's. The virtually unlimited funds of Xanatos at their disposal, and still these three seemed to prefer the diet of a couple of college students, plus a generous helping of meat. Elisa swore to herself, if she had to watch Lexington eat his favorite mixture one more time this week she would be sick. What could be so great about something which consisted of chicken-flavored ramen noodles, a tin of tuna, and a mashed-up hard boiled egg?(AN: I actually eat this! Try it!)Goliath heard Broadway's comment and joined the conversation.

"Lexington did radio us about seeing something on the rooftops," reminded the large purple male, picking up a plate of rare-cooked steak and roasted red potatoes, "Perhaps this was his 'angel'". With this said, all speculation ceased, because Lex regained consciousness.

"What happened," asked the smallest gargoyle, absently rubbing the egg-sized bruise that had appeared on top of his skull.

"You got knocked out again," answered Broadway, slurping his sauce loudly.

"Aw man, again? Did you guys see her?"

"Your 'angel'? Nope. You were on your own when we got there. Nice job with the two goons though," said Brooklyn. _He_ was eating grilled chicken with Angela. "Maybe you were seeing things. You did get hit pretty hard."

"No way, I saw her! She took out that goon that tried to bash my head in. She had these big white wings, and silver bracelets, and this long gold hair, and she fought them with a sword…" Brooklyn's laughter interrupted Lexington's reverie. "What?"

"Sound's like somebody's in love," joked the beaked gargoyle, giving his brother a leer. The younger gargoyle's protests were invalidated by the blush covering his face, and the rest of the night deteriorated into the typical roughhousing as Goliath, Hudson, and Angela took their turn on patrol.


	3. Any Good Thing

**Jumper Chapter 1.3: Any Good Thing**

_I expect to pass through life but once. If therefore, there be any kindness I can show, or any good thing I can do to any fellow being, let me do it now, and not defer or neglect it, as I shall not pass this way again. ~William Penn_

Disclaimer: If you don't have the idea by now, you just don't get it.

Twillo woke with the same searing pain wracking her body as she had felt the morning and evening before. She screamed with the pain, writhing on the stained wooden floor and forcing splinters into her arms and legs. A particularly nasty one stabbed into her calf, but with the rest of the pain she didn't even notice. She blacked out as her wings disappeared into her back for the day.

When she woke, someone was watching her. An old man in a stained coat was crouched in the corner of the empty apartment she had found the night before, his eyes glittering in the dim light as he stared at her. She scrambled backward, grabbing the crowbar again in fear. The old man laughed almost crazily and sat back on his heels, making no attempt to get closer to her.

"It's fine, missy. I ain't here to hurt ya. This is my home. I see you got in during the night. Must've climbed the fire escape, eh? That's a brave thing for such a young girl to do. Looks you've had a rough time of it. Don't you have a family who's missin' you?"

Twillo was taken aback by the stranger's concern, and it confused her for a moment. She hadn't pegged Manhattan as a place of friendly strangers, especially after her own experiences.

"I…no, there's nobody to miss me. Who are you? Did the police send you? I swear, I haven't done anything wrong-" the man cut her off at that.

"Now, now, there's no reason for that. Nobody says you did. What's your name, girl?" he asked gently, moving slowly toward her.

"Twillo. She said my name was Twillo."

"Who did, dear?"

"I'm not supposed to tell." Twillo tensed and the man sat back on his heels, realizing that this was as close as he was allowed to get for now.  
"Fair enough. Everyone's entitled to have their own secrets. Where are you from, Twillo?"

"I don't remember anything before the night before last." Twillo's stomach growled loud enough for the old man to notice.

"Why don't we get you something to eat. You could use it. We could go to the Labyrinth, or-" Twillo's eyes widened. She recognized that word from the day before.

"No, not there. I'm afraid of the people that came from there."

"Then you couldn't have been there long. They're good people down there, really. They just don't look like the rest of us. But if you don't want to go there, there are plenty of human-run shelters."

"Well," said Twillo, relaxing a little, "I guess that would be okay."

"Good. By the way, my name's George. George Bardwell. I've lived in this city for most of my life. I can show you how to get by, if you're set on staying out here on your own. You look cold."

Twillo placed the crowbar in her bag and allowed George to help her to her feet and followed as he led her out of the room and down a set of stairs in what was apparently an apartment building. The room she had been in was a place he and his friends knew they could spend the night with little chance of being caught and thrown out, George explained to her as they walked down the street. When he noticed her gripping her arms over the shreds of her sleeves, he gave her his jacket. Finally they reached a modest but well-kept building with double doors. Inside there was one large room with a desk at one end and a hallway with doors along both sides. George first stopped at the desk and talked to the young man there, then led Twillo down the hallway to a room on the right. While he waited outside she found clothes that would fit her from a box. Inside the room there was a small changing closet where she left the scraps of the clothes Demona had given her. She emerged in a pair of jeans with a hole in the knee and a burgundy shirt that had frilled sleeves, to better hide the cuffs still attached to her wrists. The jeans would be a bit drafty today, but she knew that by the next morning, it wouldn't matter. They continued down to a cafeteria room where a line of poor-looking people were filing past a row of trays, taking food from each. When she and George had both filled plates with toast, scrambled eggs, and sausages, Twillo felt better than she had in days. As she ate she watched the television in one corner.

"…Mrs. Frazier says that the robbers were stopped by three gargoyles, who returned her purse to her, along with the money from the cash registers. Whether you believe they are a menace or benevolent protectors, you can no longer argue the existence of gargoyles in Manhattan. Back to you Jane."

"I helped them last night," said Twillo excitedly to George. "One was outnumbered, and I hit the guy who was snuck up on him. I hope he's okay. He looked nice."

"The robber?" asked George.

"No, the gargoyle. You don't think they're bad, do you?" asked Twillo apprehensively.

"When the English first came to America, they thought the Indians were bad because they were different. When white men first made their way to Africa, they thought the black people there were savages, because they didn't understand them. I think your gargoyles are just another type of people. People always fear the unknown, it makes them uncomfortable. Myself, well, they've done alright by me. Stopped me from getting roughed by a couple of punks a few months ago. Big skinny red one, and a little green fella. Even handed me back my hat."

"That's who I helped, the green one. I…I feel like I should know more about them, but I can't remember anything."

One of the volunteers had been listening to their conversation without saying anything. He silently went into a room that was used as an office and made a phone call.

After they ate, George led Twillo to a closet full of coats and jackets.

"Here," he said, gesturing at the line of hangers, "Choose one of these. The only condition for the clothes is that you bring them back and swap them in for warmer in winter and cooler in summer. Food's free all the time as long as you come and volunteer once a week, to help everyone else."

Twillo looked through the coats until she found a heavy black jacket that came down to her knees. It was a little bit short in the arms, but fit fairly well otherwise. Actually, with her shirt, Twillo thought it looked good. George led her again to the cafeteria, only this time they went behind the serving counter. George picked up a tattered backpack and handed another to Twillo. When she looked inside, she saw that they were full of sandwiches. George led her out the back door of the kitchen and onto the street.

"Come on, it's time to share the Lord's help." he said to her, handing her one of the bags. Something stirred in Twillo's mind, something she might had heard before.

"God helps those who help themselves?" she ventured to say. George gave a snort of contempt at her comment.

"That's ridiculous, no matter how many people say it. The truth is, God helps those who help eachother."

Twillo found that handing out sandwiches in alleyways was a much more cheerful venture than she had first expected. There were people like George who lived in doorways and parks, but what Twillo hadn't counted on were the younger people. Teenage mothers with their children and no where to go. She was able to see how hard some people had to work just to stay alive. When the backpacks were empty they returned them to the Avery Street Shelter and had a bowl of vegetable soup and a roll each before heading back to George's room for the night. Twillo was surprised to find that they were not alone this evening, with two other men already inside. George nodded to them each in turn before placing a hand on Twillo's shoulder.

"Ralphy, Ed, this is Twillo. I found her today. She's new to the life, had a rough couple of days. She'll be staying here with me until she gets her feet under her."

"That's fine George. Ed and I are heading to the Labyrinth for the night. Warmer underground."

"That's okay. I thing she got an eyeful of Claw and won't go back."

Twillo blushed but said nothing. It would sound bad to say that she had been frightened in a police officer's apartment. The two men left after talking with George a while longer, and the man got two blankets out of the small closet.

"The landlady lets us stay here in the empty rooms cheap, but we have to get out if she gets a tenant. It's a fair arrangement."

Twillo was frightened. Nightfall was coming, and she would have to trust this man with the secret of her transformation or leave. She made her decision based on what he had told her at the shelter, and hoped she was right.

"George, I have something to tell you." She started.

"Oh really child? And what's that?"

"I don't know how to explain it. I guess I should just… Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Something in the hall. I-" Twillo didn't have time to finish before her change hit. She fell to the floor and dimly registered a crash as something was thrown over her and shouting, then choking and black.


	4. The Enemy of My Enemy

**Jumper Chapter 1.4 : The Enemy of My Enemy**

_You shall judge a man by his foes as well as by his friends-William Ellery Channing _

Lexington was on the internet, as was his usual occupation on the nights he wasn't on patrol duty. He had stumbled onto a quarrymen website a few months ago and had decided to check it out, using g4rg0y13h4tz0r as his username to project the image that he was just another leet-speeking teenager looking for someone to follow. It had been mostly typical quarrymen activities- demonstrations, hate rallies, but tonight there was a new announcement forum. The header caught his attention immediately, but he had read less than a page before he was off the computer entirely and on his communicator.

"Goliath, are you there?" he asked desperately. "I think the Quarrymen have Demona."

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"Goliath?"

"It's me Lex," replied a voice from the other end. Not Goliath's, but Brooklyn's. "Did you say Demona?" The beaked gargoyle's surprise was audible, even over the radio.

"It's on their website. Anyone who can make it is supposed to meet at warehouse three at dawn for the 'destruction of the demoness'. Angela's with you, right?"

"Yeah, she's right here."

"Then it has to be her! Where's Goliath?"

"He and Elisa are helping out on a drug bust. He left his com with me."

"So what should we do? You're the second in command. We can't just let them kill her." Brooklyn's end of the radio was silent for a moment before he answered.

"We should wait for Goliath," he said finally, sounding unsure.

"There's no time! They're killing her at sunrise. If we don't do it tonight, it's over!" Lexington sounded desperate, and Brooklyn couldn't blame his rookery brother. Demona might be their enemy, but could they really abandon her to be murdered? He sighed heavily, hoping he was making the right decision.

"Where are they, how many, and call Matt before you and Broadway leave. A gargoyle's still a gargoyle, even her."

On the other end of the communicator, Lex smiled grimly.

"Matt? Hey Bluestone, you there? This is Big Blue calling Bluestone. Aaw, come on Matt, this is an emergency!"

There was a crackle of interference before an amused voice replied.

"Broadway? You're supposed to say 'over', remember?"

"Oh, right."

"So what's your big emergency? Is Elisa alright?" The red-haired detective now sounded worried.

"No, Elisa's fine. It's something else. We need backup. We're gonna try and save Demona from the Quarrymen."

"Demona?" Of all the things Bluestone had expected to hear, that was not one of them. This was not a good situation. Save Demona and have her turn on them, or not save her and live with it. Then he realized that the issue transcended Demona's life.

"The Quarrymen? Broadway, if they wait until sunrise, they'll see her turn human. They haven't attacked innocent bystanders yet, but if they see her changing you can be sure anyone who stands in their way will become a target. Evil or not, we can't let the Quarrymen have her."

"That's what Brooklyn said."

"Well you can count me in. Where's Elisa?"

"We can't get ahold of her and Goliath."

The silence on the radio waves held their mutual understanding of the verbal lashing they would most likely share later. Matt sighed.

"Where are they," he asked after the pause. He had no desire to deal with his upset partner, or the brooding gargoyle that would inevitably follow, but he had no choice. Protect and serve. That didn't end when he punched out at the station. He wrote down the address of the warehouse the Quarrymen were using, said goodbye to Broadway, and went into the living room of his apartment.

"Diana," he said as he grabbed his coat off its hook by the door, "I've got to go out."

From her position on the couch, a dark-haired teenager looked up from her textbook. Black and white striped sleeves came to her wrists under a lace-edged black sleeveless top, with wide pants covered with zippers to match. Next to the couch stood heavy black boots covered with leather straps.

"I'm coming too," she said, closing her book with a piece of paper inside to mark the page. Matt stopped just inside the door, struggling with a sleeve.

"It's police business, too dangerous. I should be back in two hours."

The girl rose, brushing her black hair back from her face, and crossed the room, placing a travel-style coffee thermos into the Detective's hand.

"Drink your soup. Mom's convinced you're starving down here."

Glad to avoid the argument he had expected from her, Matt took the soup and left. When he was gone, Diana went back to her book only long enough to retrieve her own slip of paper with the warehouse address written on it. She looked for her keys and cursed when she realized that Matt had taken them too. Follow someone to a stakeout one time and they never let you live it down. It took her almost a minute to hotwire her pickup before she was on her way as well.

Twillo felt the heavy chains around her before she opened her eyes. She was practically wrapped in them, and it felt like her whole body was bruised from the thick links. Then again, seeing the marks on George's face, maybe the bruises were separately painful from the chains. Her left cheek felt stiff and the smell of blood drew her attention to a stinging pain above her eye.

"So you're awake, monster." The voice sounded much more menacing than the short, tubby man to her left seemed capable of. Then he raised his large metal hammer and she decided that the voice belonged not to the man, but to the weapon. He looked eager to do more than talk, but after a glance behind Twillo and George, he seemed to lose his fire. Twillo tried to turn he head to see what had cowed the man, but a thick iron collar kept her head from turning.

Diana killed the engine a few blocks away from her destination. If she was seen, she knew there would be hell to pay, no matter who caught her. She was convinced that this all had something to do with the gargoyles her uncle kept insisting he knew nothing about. His denial hurt her. They had always been close, but there was nothing she could do about it but prove their existence herself. Thinking about everything she had heard about the Quarrymen and their fanatical violence, she grabbed her patched and faded hoodie from behind the seat. She had made it herself, and it gave her a sense of security in dangerous situations. It was heavy, but it gave her the confidence she needed to continue, and contained everything she needed. Inside the front pocket were a ski mask, a set of lock picks, a thin black tube, and a spy-esque listening device. It was amazing what you could find on the internet. She put the mask on her head, but decided to wait until she was close to the building to cover her face. As she crept up she saw the guard at the door pick up something that looked like a giant sledgehammer. A rustling in the bushes to his left warned him just in time to turn around as a large blue form tackled him, in the process shattering the bare bulb that had been lighting the doorway. The area was plunged into darkness and Diana fumbled inside her pocket for the thin black tube, raising it to her left eye. Once she was sure the way was clear, she put the night vision rifle scope away and made her way to the door. It was easy enough to get inside, and periodic roars and shouting gave her a fairly good idea of why her presence in the hallway had gone unchallenged for so long. Her luck only worked so far though, as three men with hammers like the door guard had had thundered to a stop to the left of her.

"What are you doing here," demanded the nearest one menacingly. Diana had been expecting something like this to happen, and was prepared. An adoring look came into her eyes as she was glad she had forgotten the mask.

"Oh sir, I was so afraid! My friend Jacob told me about how you were doing the Lord's work, ridding the world of these evil demons, so I came here with him to join you in your crusade, but we were attacked by the devil's minions outside."

The man smiled down at Diana approvingly, and she decided she must have found the right tone of religion for him.

"Come child, and you too may battle these demons of Hell."

Diana smiled joyfully as one of the men handed her a hammer of her own as they jogged down the hallway to a large room-shaped space between the boxes of who-knew-what. She stopped just inside the door as she saw the bound gargoyle. She didn't have long to stare though, as the same blue gargoyle from the entrance came crashing down through the ceiling, taking out one of the Quarrymen. The other two twisted the handles of their hammers, causing the weapons to electrify. Diana did the same, but as the leader rushed at Broadway she quietly touched her to the back of the second man's head. As he slumped to the floor unconscious and twitching, she got to work on the chains surrounding Twillo. She was having trouble with one of the padlocks when a quiet cough turned her attention to the filthy man next to her.

"George? What on earth are you doing here?"

"Diana? Child, is that you? Well, you do manage to find trouble, don't you. Here open up these cuffs and I'll help you with her."

George was rubbing the sore spots on his wrists when he noticed that someone was watching him.

"Hold it a minute Dee," he said.

"You," he ordered, pointing. "You look strong enough. Can you carry her in all that metal?"

Unused to being spoken to so calmly by strange humans, Broadway just nodded.

"Good. Diana, God only knows how you got in here. Can you get us out?"

With Diana in the lead, the four made their way back to the door Diana had come in through. They had barely made it outside when their way was blocked by three more Quarrymen. Broadway set Twillo down as gently as he could and tackled two of them at once. George got in a glancing blow with the hammer, which he had picked up as they were leaving, but quickly decided on a better use for it. He cupped Twillo's chin in his left hand, raising her eyes from the fight to his own.

"Close your eyes, girl, and don't flinch," he said to her, raising the hammer. Twillo obediently did as he told her, waiting for the sound of the blow.

Lexington swooped down at the Quarryman in front of him, swinging his fists together like a club to bash the hooded woman in the head. He kept moving around the side of the building until he saw Broadway fighting the last Quarryman of the three. His body tensed as he looked past his rookery brother to see a man raising a hammer high over a bound form. He launched himself, hoping he wasn't too late.

As George swung the hammer down at the padlock holding Twillo's feet together, a green blur caught his attention a moment before he had the impression of being knocked over by a particularly aggressive brick wall.

Diana saw the green gargoyle plow into George out of the corner of her eye as she cut the gag on Twillo's mouth with her pocketknife. The homeless man grasped his left arm where he had landed on it and winced as Lexington went to strike him again. Before the gargoyle's blow could land, Diana had closed the short distance between them and slapped him squarely across the face. Lex whirled on her, surprised at her boldness, but was interrupted before he could react further.

"Stop it," cried Twillo, struggling within her chains. Lex's attention turned to her and the recognition hit him like he had hit George. The glow in his eyes died and he stared at her in surprise. By the time he had recovered his composure, Broadway had finished with the Quarrymen.

"You-" was all he could get out before Broadway had again hefted the bound female, looking to Diana for direction. The human girl was helping George to his feet, looking sternly at him. The older man fidgeted with his arm for a moment longer before he turned to the rest. Lex radioed the others to get out of danger as the five made their way towards Diana's truck. The human girl had almost forgotten her reason for being there in the first place when he stepped out from the shadows to block their way.

"Broadway, Lexington," he acknowledged the two gargoyles. Maybe if she kept her head down, he wouldn't notice-

"Diana." She flinched. The calm voice. She hated the calm voice.

"Hi Uncle Matt." She replied meekly, tugging at a strand of her hair. The gargoyles both turned to look at her more closely, now that they knew who she was.

"We'll talk about this later."

"But-"

"No arguments Diana! Get back to my apartment and wait for me there!" The calm voice never lasted long before giving way to angry.

"You need my truck," she challenged, "Unless you're going to sit here for an hour and pick all the locks." For the first time, Matt glanced at the bundle in Broadway's arms. Then he did a double-take and looked again.

"You're not Demona," he accused.

"No," replied Twillo weakly, overwhelmed, "I'm not."

Matt shook his head as if that would clear it.

"We'll worry about that later. Diana, give me your keys. I'll drive your truck, you take my car."

"So you, George, and these three are all gonna fit in my truck?"

Matt ran his hand back through his hair.

"Damn it Diana, do you have to argue with everything I say?"

The girl just stared at him silently, lips pressed tightly together. He knew he should have told her, there was a lot he should have told her, but he wasn't about to be cowed by a nineteen-year-old. The detective shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets.

"Fine. What do you suggest we do?"

Diana thought for a moment before answering.

"Can they drive?" she asked.

"What?"

"Can they drive? The gargoyles?"

"Sure," broke in Lex, but a withering glare from Matt silenced him.

"No," he said pointedly, his comment directed as much to the gargoyle as to the girl, "They can't."

"George, can you drive my truck with that arm?"

"Why what do you-"

"Don't you even try and fool me old man! I know it's broken, and I bet the shoulder's dislocated too. Can you drive with it?"

"I can manage."

"Okay. The big guy won't fit in my cab. Will the other one keep his hands to himself?"

Matt looked at Lex, surprised, and the gargoyle nodded, embarrassed.

"Diana, I don't like this," said Matt, slightly calmer than before.

"Neither do I," came a voice from behind the screen of the trees. Twillo shrank back from the angular face that appeared and Diana recognized it as belonging to the man who had welcomed her into the Quarrymen. Matt saw the glint in the man's eyes that said unbalanced and the glint in his hand that said gun. Not a good combination.

"You are all traitors, forsaking your own people to traffic with these demons! You shall pay for turning from the face of God!"

The man had been edging slowly away from Broadway and Lexington as the detective had been moving towards the man, so when he raised his gun he was counting on the distance between the gargoyles and himself giving him time to use the weapon on Matt. What neither of them were counting on was Diana. As the gun fired she threw herself between the two men, the first two bullets impacting in her chest and stomach. As she fell to the ground, Broadway and Lex rushed the shooter, but the man whirled faster than they had predicted, catching Broadway in the shoulder and piercing Lexington's wing before hitting metal behind him. Twillo screamed. Another shot and the repeat of metal hitting metal and silence from the chained female before the gunman turned his weapon again, placing the barrel to his temple.

"I have served my Lord," he cried madly, "And now I go to His mercy!"

The sixth shot fired. Matthew Francis Bluestone did not care. As he fell to his knees next to the horribly still body of his niece, he didn't care if the gun was aimed at his own temple. The part of his mind that was still paying attention to the world around him registered that he was in shock, but the rest of him couldn't be bothered with it. Diana was dead. As he pulled her into his arms, he was sure of it. Even through the thick dark fabric of her sweater, he could see blood welling up-slowly now, but he knew that it would be faster soon. There was nothing he could do. Diana was dead, his little Diana, and it was his fault. He should have locked her in, stolen the battery out of the truck. Jesus, he remembered the day she was born. How tiny and red she had been, and how at eight he had held his ears when she screamed. How they had played at cops and robbers and when she was older, had chased conspiracies together much to the consternation of his sister Mary. Conspiracies like the Illuminati, like the gargoyles. If he had just told her everything to begin with, she never would have followed him out here tonight. Never would have been in danger. He regretted never telling her the truth about Hacker, and all the things he had kept from her, more than he had ever expected to regret anything in his life.


	5. Salvation

**Jumper Chapter 1.5 :Salvation**

_Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. ~Norman B. Rice_

The world had stopped. He couldn't tell how long he had been sitting there like that, if it had been seconds or hours, when he felt her body shift in his grasp. His eyes snapped into focus on whoever was trying to take her from him, and came to rest on her face. Her eyes were open. She was moving.

"Diana?" The break in his voice took both Bluestones by surprise. The girl in question coughed and groaned, proving her consciousness. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach and her lungs didn't seem to want to breathe, but there was another, brighter pain. She reached inside the pocket of her jacket and felt the jagged edge of a glass shard slice her finger, instantly realizing what had happened. She had never really expected to get shot, (who does?), and had never thought about what would happen if the equipment in her pocket was ever struck by a bullet. Well, her mother always said that she had to learn things the hard way. She tried to sit up but sucked in air sharply, saved from falling back to the ground by her uncle, who stared at her amazed by her seeming resurrection.

"Diana?" he asked again, stunned.

"Uncle Matt? Are you okay?"

"Diana, what just happened?"

"That'll have to wait you two," interrupted George. Matt absently scratched an itch on his cheek and was surprised to find it wet with tears he hadn't realized he was shedding. "Our friend over there seems to have booby trapped himself. Whatever happened, he didn't blow, but he sure caught fire, and there'll be more like him on the way. Diana, you okay?" asked the old man.

"Fine George." He was about to argue, but from the look on her face, it would just take longer and have the same effect.

"What about you three?" he asked again, gesturing at the gargoyles. Lex was the one who answered, repentant after his earlier show of temper.

"Broadway got hit in the arm, but he's okay. The female…"

"Twillo," prompted George.

"Twillo got hit in the wing, and so did I. We won't be able to fly tonight."

"Then we'll go with Dee's idea, as long as that's okay with you Officer?"

"I just…" Matt broke off with a sigh. He had thought that he had adjusted to all the weirdness in his life, all the uncertainties and risks, but tonight was like trying to watch a Spanish soap opera. Everyone was talking, but he felt incredibly out of the loop.

"Fine. Meet me in the parking lot of the Aerie building. But I'd better get one hell of an explanation when we get there." Diana managed a small smile and took the hand he offered to help her to her feet, hugging him tightly but awkwardly, keeping her injured stomach out of contact with his.

"I'm sorry for worrying you," she whispered softly.

"Later," he replied, his voice thicker than he would have liked. Thankfully, everyone ignored it. He cleared his throat and was satisfied with the improvement it made. "Broadway, can you fly?"

"Not with her," answered the web-eared gargoyle, shifting his still burden slightly.

"Put her in Diana's truck and we'll see you at the castle." With that he turned and left. George put his good hand on Diana's shoulder, turning her towards the nearby truck.

"You scared the holy hell out of that boy you know," he said to her quietly. Her eyes shone with more than just the moonlight.

"I didn't mean to, but what else could I do? He would have gotten shot. He told me to wait back in the apartment, like a good little girl, while he went out, and I would still be waiting there, until the squad car came up in front." Her voice went from watery to ragged. "They probably would have sent Elisa. She's the only one I've really met, and she's his partner. She would have had me sit down, and told me a lie about how he had been shot down in the line of duty, when he would have been here, dying on the dirt from that man. I had to protect him!" Broadway gently sat Twillo in the bed of the truck while George let Diana cry, holding her. She finished quickly, he noticed. She was a strong girl, if shaken by the close calls tonight. She would bounce back quickly. He looked questioningly at her as she climbed clumsily into the back of the vehicle as well.

"I've got to get these chains off her," she said in explanation. "There should be a big grey blanket behind the seat, give it to me and let's go." Lexington climbed into the cab of the truck with George apprehensively, not saying a word. He couldn't help but notice how the man winced whenever he tried to move the arm that the gargoyle's misplaced aggressiveness had broken. Diana covered Twillo with the blanket and they were going. Each bump they went over jarred each of them, to the point where Diana knocked on the sliding window in the glass. After a moment of fumbling, Lex found the clasp and opened it.

"Are you sure she's okay? I'm getting breathing and a heartbeat, but she's not moving." Diana had to shout over the wind to be heard.

"He's going slow trying to miss the rough spots," Lex hollered back.

"Well, just tell George to move it. I'm worried about her. She's bleeding." The homeless man nodded sped up as Lexington shut the window.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, boy," he finally said to the green gargoyle. "I don't bite."

"I'm sorry, for before," Lex apologized nervously. "I just thought-"

"I can imagine what you thought, with that hammer above your friend."

"Actually, we've never met her before. You seem to know her."

"I helped someone in need of help, that's all. Unfortunately, for those fanatics with the hammers, that's enough. And she tells me you're wrong, that she's met you in particular once before."

"So it was her in the alley last night! Everybody said it was just a dream, from being hit on the head!"

"Well they'll soon find out they're wrong, won't they?" By now they had made their way to the indoor lot of the Aerie building. Brooklyn's voice crackled over the radio.

"Hey, is that you guys coming in?" asked the red gargoyle. "Matt said to be looking for a beat up truck."

"Yeah, it's us," answered the smaller gargoyle.

"Matt's waiting in the elevator." Between Matt and Lex they managed to get Twillo out of the bed of the truck. Diana had managed to remove most of the chains during the ride over, but the collar was beyond her. The white gargoyle woke with the movement and was able to walk with help to the elevator. They spent the ride up in uncomfortable silence, George noting the redness of the elder Bluestone's eyes but saying nothing. When they arrived at the top floor, they found not only the three gargoyles they expected, but Goliath and Elisa, done with the police work for the night. Neither looked particularly happy, but Matt was beyond caring.

"What is going on?" rumbled the large clan leader disapprovingly.

"Brooklyn tells us that you went to save Demona from the Quarrymen, then Broadway arrives injured and saying that Demona was not there, that it was a stranger." George and Lexington, who had been standing in front of Twillo, parted to show the female. Her eyes wide, she tried to draw her wings around her but was hampered by the remaining chains. Goliath's eyes glowed angrily to see a gargoyle thus bound, and he strode fiercely up to her, grasping the thick iron collar. She whimpered as his massive fists cracked the entire thing in two like a soda can. Diana gasped at what it revealed, grabbing a roll of gauze out of the first aid kit a severe looking blonde man was using to treat Broadway's gunshot wound. She pressed the bundle to the hole in the gargoyle's chest, soaking up the blood so that she could get a better look. When she removed the cloth, she was surprised and relieved to see that the puncture was not nearly as deep or as vicious as the gunshot wound it had first appeared. Elisa turned over the front portion of the collar, and found the lead slug sticking halfway through the worked metal, sharp tips of iron pointing inward. The collar had both harmed her and probably saved her life.

"Okay, now I've gotta ask. What on earth happened out there?" Nobody seemed particularly eager to answer the woman, so George stepped up and explained what had happened, glossing over his own injury. When he got to the part about the shooting, Goliath was ready to go out and hunt down whoever dared, but the homeless man was quick to explain that the issue was over, at least for the gunman. Elisa saw Matt's eyes glisten in the light for a moment, but he turned away as George told how Diana had been injured.

"So how did you survive?" asked Elisa finally. Diana, who had assisted with the tending of Twillo's wound with an efficiency that even Owen approved of, now blushed and mumbled into her hood.

"What's that?" asked Hudson, who had been with Goliath and Elisa. Diana raised her head, blushing further.

"My sweater. It's Kevlar." Now Matt stared at her, everything making sense.

"IT'S WHAT?" he demanded, just to be sure. Diana squirmed a little, but not as much as he had hoped.

"I made it out of the old vests I found in the dumpster behind the police department after you told me what a waste it was that they threw the old ones out. I didn't expect to get shot in the pocket." Matt tilted his head backwards, closing his eyes. This night was about to be too much, but he had to ask.

"And what, might I ask, is in the pocket?" Diana raised the hoodie by the shoulders, pulling it up and over her head. Matt winced when he saw the mess of her stomach. Her shirt was a ruin of glass and blood, and he didn't want to think that the skin beneath looked the same as she raised the fabric off the wound.

"Sit down," he said firmly. He expected another argument, but to his surprise she listened, allowing him to take tweezers to the shards of glass jutting from her skin. It seemed to calm them both, him concentrating on the wounds and her on dealing with the pain. She handed the non-broken contents of the jacket to Elisa, who couldn't help but be impressed at the kid's ideas. They could use people with this kind of initiative on the force, but from the look still on Matt's face, that would be a suggestion best saved for later. While the humans dealt with Diana, the gargoyles questioned their own.

"Where did you come from?" "How did you get here?" "Are you hungry?" "Are there more of you?" Twillo scooted back from the circle of friendly but demanding faces until she ran into something hard and round. Looking up, she found that she was sitting on Goliath's foot. The only sound she was able to make was a terrified 'eep'. Finally Hudson brushed the others back away from her, and seated her in his own favorite easy chair.

"Alright now all of ye, one thing at a time. Where did ye come from child?" he asked her. Twillo began to speak, but found that something was holding her back. Hudson noticed the frustration on her face, and took it for hesitation.

"It's alright lass, ye can tell us."he said encouragingly. Owen adjusted his glasses, coming up behind the tan gargoyle.

"I'm afraid she cannot," he said dryly. Twillo looked up at the new stranger. There was something about his eyes that she couldn't place, and it made her head hurt. She couldn't look at him.

"Someone has placed a geas on the girl, to keep her from disclosing the identity of whoever sent her," he continued, as if he were reading the boring headline of a newspaper.

"Is she dangerous then?" asked the eldest gargoyle doubtfully. Twillo's head snapped up.

"Please, I don't want to hurt anyone."

"She doesn't look dangerous," agreed Broadway, his arm now bandaged. Twillo smiled at him thankfully. He had carried her to safety when she was helpless.

"Is there not some way of being sure of her intentions?" asked Goliath. Twillo looked again at the thin, pale man he addressed. Those eyes, they distracted her.

"Something the Puck could do?" prompted the lavender gargoyle. His rumbling voice caused something to click within her. Her head stopped hurting.

"You!" she accused, before she could stop herself. All attention turned to her, and she shrank down into the chair, but had to continue. "That's what's wrong with your eyes," she finished weakly. All of the gargoyles now regarded the face of their human companion with confusion.

"I don't see anything different," commented Brooklyn after a moment.

"Nor I lass," agreed Hudson. "What do you see?" Twillo answered as best she could, unsure now.

"There's something behind them, watching me. That name you said, Puck. That's what's inside him." If it were possible for Owen to look sterner, he did.

"Very astute, Miss, however unexpected. I think that now would be a good time for Alexander to have his lesson."

As if on cue, the red-haired child entered the room, earning stares. It wasn't the fuzzy yellow footie pajamas that earned the attention, nor the blue blanket tied around his shoulders like a cape. The remarkable thing was that he was walking a full foot above the floor.

"Unca Puck?" he asked quietly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Yes Alex, it's time for Uncle Puck," replied Owen. He spun in place, light masking the exact moment of transformation, and began whizzing figure eights around Alex and Twillo, who had risen to her feet. Alex laughed, delighted. This was his favorite trick. The gargoyle tried to watch his movement but failed, dizzied. The same happened to Diana, who had entered the room now that the cops were done interrogating her. Their response was the both simultaneous and the same.

"STOP IT," they each cried, eyes closed, hands outstretched. To the Puck's surprise, he did, hanging suspended aloft, but perfectly still. He shook himself like a wet dog, wiggling out of his place in the air.

"Okay, which one of you did that?" he demanded, distractedly looking between the two. The girls looked at each other, stunned but silent. "No takers, eh? Well, no matter. Alex, fly to Uncle Puck. It's time for school!" The child floated up, allowing the faery to take the boy in his arms. He looked mischievously at the suspects in his sudden stop.

"Alright now, time for some magic. Puck pressed his finger to his lips, thinking for a moment. He quickly decided which spell he would have the boy use. "On the heads of friends new, Show if their words be true. False give black as night, True make purest white." The toddler mangled the words a bit, wiggling his fingers, and sparkles of black and white flew out of his hands towards Twillo, Diana, and George. On each of them a circular tattoo appeared, a large grey dot in the middle of their forehead.

"Alright, first things first. Do any of you mean to harm those who live in this castle?" Three no's and the dots all glowed a bright white. "Well that's taken care of. Now, who are you, and how did you get here?" All three began talking at once, making the Puck hold up his hands for silence. "No, no, one at a time. You first," he pointed at Twillo. The gargoyle started tentatively.

"I woke up and couldn't remember anything. Ssssss-" it felt like her throat had filled with cotton, like her mouth had frozen. She shook her head and continued, omitting the word. "Told me my name was Twillo, and told me to come here and..., I got lost, and was afraid after I helped that one-(she pointed at Lex) in an alley. George found me in his home, and helped me. Then the Quarrymen came, and then we were rescued by the three of them. I-I feel like I should know more, but I can't remember." The dot on he head remained a bright white the entire time. When Twillo paused, overcome by her longest speech yet, Puck stared at her intently. When she was finished speaking, he gave her a look like she had personally insulted him.

"Hmm, not an amateur's work. I could break it, but it would tell whoever made it. I think we'll know soon enough anyway. Okay girlie, you're clean. Oh, one more thing! Was it you who zapped me?" Twillo shook her head, eyes wide and dot flashing white and grey. "You'll have to speak for the spell to work, toots," smiled Oberon's son.

"I don't know anything about zapping someone," she replied, shining white dot attesting to her honesty. The Puck looked downright disappointed.

"Alright old-timer, it's your turn. How did you get involved in all this?" George kept his story short and to the point.

"I never had a problem with any gargoyle," he said, "And the girl needed my help. It'd be a fine world to live in if everybody only looked out for number one. Don't know how those hammer-heads found us, but I say it's for the better if it puts the girl back with her own. I'm not out to do anybody any harm, though. You can be sure of that." The elf sighed. The spells on these two hadn't flashed once!

"Bo-ring! Who would have thought to find such a do-gooder in New York? How about you babe," he asked, gesturing at Diana. "You look…interesting." To Puck's surprise and amusement, Diana had the gall to stick her tongue out at him before she started.

"I just wanted to help my uncle-"

"BZZZZT! Try again!"

"Alright, fine! I was curious. I wanted to see if the gargoyles were real! I knew he was keeping what he knew from me, and it hurt my feelings. I can't believe he didn't tell me! So I went to find out for myself, after I heard him talking about it over the radio. I never thought it would be dangerous-"

"Oh you didn't?" The bemused look on Puck's face made Diana angry, but the fire in her voice died.

"I didn't think it would be that dangerous, but I wore my sweater anyway, to feel safe. I picked the lock on the door after Big Blue over there knocked out the guard, and pretended to be a new recruit so that they would show me the gargoyle they had. I found her and George cuffed in a little room, and we got out of the building okay, but then Uncle Matt saw us, and then I got shot, and it hurt like hell, and then we came here. So there, fairy-man. And no, I didn't zap you either." Her spirit was bruised, but obviously not broken.

"Well, I guess that's enough for now. Alex?" The little boy giggled and flew around the three, smacking each of them gently in the forehead as he passed them.

"Donk! Donk! Donk!", he shouted happily. "Got you!" He finished by floating gently back into his favorite uncle's grasp. "I got'em," he announced proudly.

"Yep, you got'em alright," answered Puck. Elisa was more interested in Diana by the minute.

"You infiltrated the Quarryman organization, broke into their base, and rescued a gargoyle you weren't sure existed?" Diana smiled a little at the admiration in the police officer's tone, but her uncle scowled darkly.

"I TOLD her to stay at home," he grumbled. The dark haired girl didn't miss his comment.

"You LIED to me! How am I supposed to listen to you, to help you at all if you lie to me about knowing anything?"

"You weren't supposed to 'help' me at all!"

"It would seem," interrupted Burnett, who had resumed his stoic form while no one was paying attention, "That it has been a stressful night for all of you." The two Bluestones were sufficiently chastised into silence for the moment, but their argument was obviously far from over. They consented to ignore eachother for the remainder of the evening as Broadway brought everyone dinner and the group split along the generational lines shortly before sunrise. Twillo had fallen asleep on the couch, and Hudson had threatened the ears and tails of the trio if they woke her to pester her with questions. Nightfall, he told them, was soon enough, and her injuries would be healed then. Diana's curiosity was more than enough to occupy the four younger gargoyles until morning, when they prepared to take their posts for the day. Twillo they left on the couch to rest, as the stone sleep they assumed she would share wouldn't hurt the furniture. Diana curled up in the chair next to her, but hadn't gotten to sleep before the sun rose, and with it her new acquaintance.


	6. New York, New York

**Chapter 1.6: New York, New York**

_Strangers are just friends waiting to happen. ~Rod McKuen_

The beginning of Twillo's change flung her from the couch and onto the floor, jerking Diana out of her doze. She threw herself down onto the thrashing body, holding the gargoyle as she convulsed. Her cries stopped, but she flung the human girl off of her, overturning the couch. Diana sat up watched in amazement as the white gargoyle lost her wings and tail, the talons of her feet gouging into the stone floor before disappearing to leave an unconscious human girl. She woke after a few minutes, her noise having gone unnoticed by the residents of the castle, who had removed themselves to discuss the situation with Matt and Elisa. Twillo sat up slowly, looking around her. When she saw Diana staring at her, she shrank back as if afraid.

"So you just found her in your apartment? I bet you thought she was a statue, huh?"

Elisa smiled as she spoke, remembering her first day in the park with Goliath. Somehow she had known how important it was to protect the strange creature who had terrified her at first, but had saved her life. Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to notice the slight confusion on the older man.

"Well, if I hadn't come in just as the pain hit her, I'd have thought she was just another runaway, though she didn't act the part."

Elisa was surprised at the man's acceptance.

"Didn't the wings kind of give her away?"

"Nope," answered George, puzzled, "Didn't have 'em. I let her sleep for a while and took her to the shelter on third street for breakfast,-"

Elisa shot to her feet. Matt looked like he would have liked to do the same, but was too exhausted.

"So you're saying that she's human during the day?" demanded Elisa, finally realizing the truth. George got that rock-in-the-stomach feeling of telling someone else's secrets.

"Well of course, what else would she be?"

Elisa's mind was racing. That girl had to be Demona, or else the gargoyle sorceress had found a way to copy Puck's magic. That meant all the gargoyles were in danger from her. The detective sprinted from the room. Barely after she had, the elevator doors closed quietly.

Diana, while not a specifically disobedient or troublesome girl in nature, had, as Owen had so eloquently described it, "Had a stressful night." She was feeling hurt and betrayed, whether Matt had meant it or not, and there were several such instances in their past where her vengeance had gotten out of hand, including many which he would have been unwilling to describe. So it was not entirely innocent friendliness that caused her to extend an offer of hospitality to the girl, whatever her current form. Twillo was glad of the friendship though, and wasn't opposed to the idea of clothes that were whole. So when the Xanatoses and their guests came back into the room, they were surprised to find it empty. When Matt saw the note that had been left on the table, he looked like flames were going to shoot from his eyes.

"I can't BELIEVE she did this, just to get back at me!

Diana smirked as she drove out of the parking garage. She was, of course, only seeing to the needs of her new friend, as she would innocently explain later when they got caught. She planned out her route for the day as she drove quickly to her campus apartment. They wouldn't have much time there if Matt found her note, less if he used the siren. Thinking about it, she decided to park at the pizza parlor across the street. Twillo had dozed most of the ride, but Diana's stop woke her and the two girls hurried across the street and up the flight of stairs to Diana's place. She grabbed her backpack and started shoving things in it seemingly at random- clothes, books, pop-tarts, cds. she jammed a box of granola bars in the top and forced the clasp together. She flipped through the clothes in her closet and tossed out a long-sleeved shirt, a black skirt, and a pair of slide-on shoes, directing Twillo to change into them.

"Come on, these'll be fine for now."

Closing the door of the closet to give them both some privacy, she quickly changed her own clothes and emerged to find the petite girl drowning in the baggy sweater.

"Well, it'll get us to the store. We have to get going before-"

The sound of sirens cut her off and she grabbed Twillo's hand to pull her toward the door.

"Let's go. We can find you something better if we hurry."

They took the back stairway and darted across the street as Diana took note of the now empty police cruiser parked in front of the building. The two girls loaded into the junker pickup and were on their way.

A quick stop at All-mart and Twillo was much more comfortable in khaki cargo pants and a pink tank top that Diana hated, but paid for anyway, along with several other things and a bag to carry it all. Diana felt proud of herself- at least _somebody_ had the forethought to take care of this stranger. They eventually ended up at the McDollar's across town, the farthest one from Diana's dorm room and the precinct.

"So seriously, no memory at all? Not anything?" Twillo shook her head in the negative, taking another appreciative bite of her cheezeburger.

"Weird. And it's seriously some kind of magic spell, but you can't talk about it?" Diana had a mountain of french fries towering over a lake of ketchup in front of her.

"Pretty much. But everything's wrong, and I don't know what to do."

"Just try to get by, I guess. The others from last night seem to be nice enough, you could probably stay with them." Twillo seemed undecided, awkwardly dragging a fry through the red pool herself.

"I don't...it doesn't feel right, when I'm like them. It's not normal. This is me, now. Those others, I saw them fly. I can't do that. What else can they do that I can't?"

"I don't know, really. Only rumors. I had never even _seen_ a real gargoyle up close until last night. I _knew_ they had to exist, though. There was too much evidence for them not to."

"Evidence? What evidence. I saw them, they're real."

"Most people think they're a hoax. Lots of blurry pictures, contradictory eyewitness accounts, real bigfoot stuff. That's why I went to the bottom for the bottom."

"Huh? What bottom?" Diana grinned at her and waved a soggy fry expressively.

"To get to the bottom of things, you have to go to the bottom of things. The lowest level. That's how I knew George- I've been asking around the homeless shelters for the last six months. They're always on the street, and they _see_ things. Nobody notices them, they're like part of the background. George is the one who told me about the Labyrinth, underground. If there's things like that down there, it's not a big jump from them to gargoyles! And I knew Uncle Matt had something to do with the whole thing, there were just too many coincidences. That and his story was so weak. For a cop, he can be a pretty bad liar. Flying robot prototypes, yeah right."

The dark-haired girl dug into her bag and removed a binder, flipping it open to show pages of pictures, newspaper clippings and articles from magazines, all of them about gargoyles. She pointed to a certain piece of paper and tapped the image of a winged figure who looked slightly out of place sitting at a card table with two old men.

"None of my information says anything about any kind of change at sunrise though. I know the cat-men in the Labyrinth are the same all the time, but none of the gargoyles at the castle had fur. Maybe different kinds of gargoyles do different things?"

"I don't know."

"Right, right. So listen, tomorrow night there's a meeting at my college, 'Students for Species Equality', and we've never been able to get a real gargoyle to come..."

The sun was nearly setting when Diana's truck pulled back into the parking garage at the Eyrie building. The girls took their time looking around the gargoyles' quarters, walking through the corridors of antiques on the way. The halls were strangely empty, but they didn't think anything of it for almost an hour, when they went outside to examine the lifelike statues on the castle walls. Twillo was the first to realize what the stone figures really were, and stared in shock at Hudson as the information seemed to seep into her mind.

"It's them! The ones from last night! This is them."

Diana came over from her study of Brooklyn to see what her friend was talking about.

"What? Yeah, I see it. These are pretty good copies."

"No, it really _is_ them! They turned to stone! I don't know why, but I _know_ it's them!"

"Seriously? How on earth...Twillo? Are you okay?"

The blonde girl had lowered herself to sit on the edge of the wall, her hands pressed to her forhead.

"I don't-the sun! I-"

Shouting, thrashing, a chorus of roars and gravel flying. Diana wasn't sure what was happening, but the whole situation was doing a pretty good impression of a car crash. Twillo's movements sent her tumbling backward off the side of the castle and Diana lunged to grab her, catching her arm in one hand and hooking Broadway's ankle with the other, startling the blue gargoyle as he woke from his slumber.

"Huh?"

"Hey, she's falling! Help!"

Diana slipped farther over the wall, nearly falling herself, but she refused to let go until strong hands yanked her back and she lost her grip.

"NO!"


	7. Wright and Wrong

AN: Don't kill me for the ending. I had to do this as a cliffie. More to come soon, I had to split this into two chapters because it was so long. Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

Lexington was on the internet, as was his usual occupation on the nights he wasn't on patrol duty. He had stumbled onto a quarrymen website a few months ago and had decided to check it out, using g4rg0y13h4tz0r as his username to project the image that he was just another leet-speeking teenager looking for someone to follow. It had been mostly typical quarrymen activities- demonstrations, hate rallies, but tonight there was a new announcement forum. The header caught his attention immediately, but he had read less than a page before he was off the computer entirely and on his communicator.

"Goliath, are you there?" he asked desperately. "I think the Quarrymen have Demona."

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The creators of this fanfiction would like to thank Banana, Orange, and Kiwi Smoothies, for their generous contributions. This program has been brought to you by Caffeine, Boredom, and ADD Incorporated. Without all, Nothing.

"Goliath?"

"It's me Lex," replied a voice from the other end. Not Goliath's, but Brooklyn's. "Did you say Demona?" The beaked gargoyle's surprise was audible, even over the radio.

"It's on their website. Anyone who can make it is supposed to meet at warehouse three at dawn for the 'destruction' of the 'demoness'. Angela's with you, right?"

"Yeah, she's right here."

"Then it has to be her! Where's Goliath?"

"He and Elisa are helping out on a drug bust. He left his com with me."

"So what should we do? You're the second in command. We can't just let them kill her." Brooklyn's end of the radio was silent for a moment before he answered.

"We should wait for Goliath," he said finally, sounding unsure.

"There's no time! They're doing it at sunrise. If we don't do it tonight, it's over!" Lexington sounded desperate, and Brooklyn couldn't blame his rookery brother. Demona might be their enemy, but could they really abandon her to be murdered? He sighed heavily, hoping he was making the right decision.

"Where are they, how many, and call Matt before you and Broadway leave. A gargoyle's still a gargoyle, even her."

On the other end of the communicator, Lex grinned.

"Matt? Hey Bluestone, you there? This is Big Blue calling Bluestone. Aaw, come on Matt, this is an emergency!"

There was a crackle of interference before a voice replied.

"Broadway? You're supposed to say 'over', remember?"

"Oh, right."

"So what's your big emergency? Is Elisa alright?"  
The red-haired detective now sounded worried.

"No, Elisa's fine. It's something else. We need backup. We're gonna try and save Demona from the Quarrymen."

"Demona?" Of all the things Bluestone had expected to hear, that was not one of them. This was not a good situation. Save Demona and have her turn on them, or not save her and live with it. Then he realized that the issue transcended Demona's life.

"The Quarrymen? Broadway, if they wait until sunrise, they'll see her turn human. They haven't attacked innocent bystanders yet, but if they see her changing you can be sure anyone who stands in their way will become a target. Evil or not, we can't let the Quarrymen have her."

"That's what Brooklyn said."

"Well you can count me in. Where's Elisa?"

"We can't get ahold of her and Goliath."

The silence on the radio waves held their mutual understanding of the verbal lashing they would most likely share later. Matt sighed.

"Where are they," he asked after the pause. He had no desire to deal with his upset partner, or the brooding gargoyle that would inevitably follow, but he had no choice. Protect and serve. He wrote down the address of the warehouse the Quarrymen were using, said goodbye to Broadway, and went into the living room of his apartment.

"Diana," he said as he grabbed his coat off its hook by the door, "I've got to go out."

From her position on the couch, a dark-haired teenager looked up from her textbook. Black and white striped sleeves came to her wrists under a lace-edged black sleeveless top, with wide pants covered with zippers to match. Next to the couch stood heavy black boots covered with leather straps.

"I'm coming too," she said, closing her book with a piece of paper inside to mark the page. Matt stopped just inside the door, struggling with a sleeve.

"It's police business, too dangerous. I should be back in two hours."

The girl rose, brushing her black hair back from her face, and crossed the room, placing a travel-style coffee thermos into the Detective's hand.

"Drink your soup. Mom's convinced you're starving down here."

Glad to avoid the argument he had expected from her, Matt took the soup and left. When he was gone, Diana went back to her book only long enough to retrieve her own slip of paper with the warehouse address written on it. She looked for her keys and cursed when she realized that Matt had taken them too. Follow someone to a stakeout one time and they never let you live it down. It took her almost a minute to hotwire her pickup before she was on her way as well.

Twillo felt the heavy chains around her before she opened her eyes. She was practically wrapped in them, and it felt like her whole body was bruised from the thick links. Then again, seeing the marks on George's face, maybe the bruises were separately painful from the chains. Her left cheek felt stiff and the smell of blood drew her attention to a stinging pain above her eye.

"So you're awake, monster." The voice sounded much more menacing than the short, tubby man to her left seemed capable of. Then he raised his large metal hammer and she decided that the voice belonged not to the man, but the weapon. He looked eager to do more than talk, but after a glance behind Twillo and George, he seemed to lose his fire. Twillo tried to turn he head to see what had cowed the man, but a thick iron collar kept her head from turning.

Diana killed the engine a few blocks away from her destination. If she was seen, she knew there would be hell to pay, no matter who caught her. She was convinced that this all had something to do with the gargoyles her uncle kept insisting he knew nothing about. His denial hurt her. They had always been close, but there was nothing she could do about it but prove their existence herself. Thinking about everything she had heard about the Quarrymen and their fanatical violence, she grabbed her patched and faded hoodie from behind the seat. She had made it herself, and it gave her a sense of security in dangerous situations. It was heavy, but it gave her the confidence she needed to continue, and contained everything she needed. Inside the front pocket were a ski mask, a set of lock picks, a thin black tube, and a spy-esque listening device. It was amazing what you could find on the internet. She put the mask on her head, but waited until she was close to the building to cover her face. As she crept up she saw the guarg at the door pick up something that looked like a giant sledgehammer. A rustling in the bushes to his left warned him just in time to turn around as a large blue form tackled him, in the process shattering the bare bulb that had been lighting the doorway. The area was plunged into darkness and Diana fumbled inside her pocket for the thin black tube, raising it to her left eye. Once she was sure the way was clear, she put the nightvision rifle scope away and made her way to the door. It was easy enough to get inside, and periodic roars and shouting gave her a fairly good idea of why her presence in the hallway had gone unchallenged for so long. Her luck only worked so far though, as three men with hammers like the door guard had had thundered to a stop to the left of her.

"What are you doing here," demanded the nearest one menacingly. Diana had been expecting something like this to happen, and was prepared. An adoring look came into her eyes as she pulled away the mask.

"Oh sir, I was so afraid! My friend Jacob told me about how you were doing the Lord's work, ridding the world of these evil demons, so I came here with him to join you in your crusade, but we were attacked by the devil's minions outside."

The man smiled down at Diana approvingly, and she decided she must have found the right tone of religion for him.

"Come child, and you too may battle these demons of Hell."

Diana smiled joyfully as one of the men handed her a hammer of her own as they jogged down the hallway to a large room-shaped space between the boxes of who-knew-what. She stopped just inside the door as she saw the bound gargoyle. She didn't have long to stare though, as the same blue gargoyle from the entrance came crashing down through the ceiling, taking out one of the Quarrymen. The other two twisted the handles of their hammers, causing the weapons to electrify. Diana did the same, but as the leader rushed at Broadway she quietly touched her to the back of the second man's head. As he slumped to the floor unconscious and twitching, she got to work on the chains surrounding Twillo. She was having trouble with one of the padlocks when a quiet cough turned her attention to the filthy man next to her.

"George? What on earth are you doing here?"

"Diana? Child, is that you? Well, you do manage to find trouble, don't you. Here open up these cuffs and I'll help you with her."

George was rubbing the sore spots on his wrists when he noticed that someone was watching him.

"Hold it a minute Dee," he said.

"You," he ordered, pointing. "You look strong enough. Can you carry her in all that metal?"

Unused to being spoken to so calmly by strange humans, Broadway just nodded.

"Good. Diana, God only knows how you got in here. Can you get us out?"

With Diana in the lead, the four made their way back to the door Diana had come in through. They had barely made it outside when their way was blocked by three more Quarrymen. Broadway set Twillo down as gently as he could and tackled two of them at once. George got in a glancing blow with the hammer, which he had picked up as they were leaving, but quickly decided on a better use for it. He cupped Twillo's chin in his left hand, raising her eyes from the fight to his own.

"Close your eyes, girl, and don't flinch," he said to her, raising the hammer. Twillo obediently did as he told her, waiting for the sound of the blow.

Lexington swooped down at the Quarryman in front of him, swinging his fists together like a club to bash the hooded woman in the head. He kept moving around the side of the building until he saw Broadway fighting the last Quarryman of the three. His body tensed as he looked past his rookery brother to see a man raising a hammer high over a bound form. He launched himself, hoping he wasn't too late.

As George swung the hammer down at eh padlock holding Twillo's feet together, a green blur caught his attention a moment before he had the impression of being knocked over by a particularly aggressive brick wall.

Diana saw the green gargoyle plow into George out of the corner of her eye as she cut the gag on Twillo's mouth with her pocketknife. The homeless man grasped his left arm where he had landed on it and winced as Lexington went to strike him again. Before the gargoyle's blow could land, Diana had closed the short distance between them and slapped him squarely across the face. Lex whirled on her, surprised at her boldness, but was interrupted before he could react further.

"Stop it," cried Twillo, struggling within her chains. Lex's attention turned to her and the recognition hit him like he had hit George. The glow in his eyes died and he stared at her in surprise. By the time he had recovered his composure, Broadway had finished with the Quarrymen.

"You-" was all he could get out before Broadway had again hefted the bound female, looking to Diana for direction. The human girl was helping George to his feet, looking sternly at him. The older man fidgeted with his arm for a moment longer before he turned to the rest. Lex radioed the others to get out of danger as the five made their way towards Diana's truck. The human girl had almost forgotten her reason for being there in the first place when he stepped out from the shadows to block their way.

"Broadway, Lexington," he acknowledged the two gargoyles. Maybe if she kept her head down, he wouldn't notice-

"Diana." She flinched. The calm voice. She hated the calm voice.

"Hi Uncle Matt." She replied meekly, tugging at a strand of her hair. The gargoyles both turned to look at her more closely, now that they knew who she was.

"We'll talk about this later."

"But-"

"No arguments Diana! Get back to my apartment and wait for me there!" The calm voice never lasted long before giving way to angry.

"You need my truck," she challenged, "Unless you're going to sit here for an hour and pick all the locks." For the first time, Matt glanced at the bundle in Broadway's arms. Then he did a double-take and looked again.

"You're not Demona," he accused.

"No," replied Twillo weakly, overwhelmed, "I'm not."

Matt shook his head as if that would clear it.

"We'll worry about that later. Diana, give me your keys. I'll drive your truck, you take my car."

"So you, George, and these three are all gonna fit in my truck?"

Matt ran his hand back through his hair.

"Damn it Diana, do you have to argue with everything I say?"

The girl just stared at him silently, lips pressed tightly together. He knew he should have told her, there was a lot he should have told her, but he wasn't about to be cowed by a nineteen-year-old. The detective shoved his hands into the pockets of his jackets.

"Fine. What do you suggest we do?"

Diana thought for a moment before answering.

"Can they drive?" she asked.

"What?"

"Can they drive? The gargoyles?"

"Sure," broke in Lex, but a withering glare from Matt silenced him.

"No," he said pointedly, his comment directed as much to the gargoyle as to the girl, "They can't."

"George, can you drive my truck with that arm?"

"Why what do you-"

"Don't you even try and fool me old man! I know it's broken, and I bet the shoulder's dislocated too. Can you drive with it?"

"I can manage."

"Okay. The big guy won't fit in my cab. Will the other one keep his hands to himself?"

Matt looked at Lex, surprised, and the gargoyle nodded, embarrassed.

"Diana, I don't like this," said Matt, slightly calmer than before.

"Neither do I," came a voice from behind the screen of the trees. Twillo shrank back from the angular face that appeared and Diana recognized it as belonging to the man who had welcomed her into the Quarrymen. Matt saw the glint in the man's eyes that said unbalanced and the glint in his hand that said gun. Not a good combination.

"You are all traitors, forsaking your own people to traffic with these demons! You shall pay for turning from the face of God!"

The man had been edging slowly away from Broadway and Lexington as the detective had been moving towards the man, so when he raised his gun he was counting on the distance between the gargoyles and himself giving him time to use the weapon on Matt. What neither of them were counting on was Diana. As the gun fired she threw herself between the two men, the first two bullets impacting in her chest and stomach. As she fell to the ground, Broadway and Lex rushed the shooter, but the man whirled faster than they had predicted, catching Broadway in the shoulder and piercing Lexington's wing before hitting metal behind him. Twillo screamed. Another shot and the repeat of metal hitting metal and silence from the chained female before the gunman turned his weapon again, placing the barrel to his temple.

"I have served my Lord," he cried madly, "And now I go to His mercy!"

The sixth shot fired. Matthew Francis Bluestone did not care. As he fell to his knees next to the horribly still body of his niece, he didn't care if the gun was aimed at his own temple. The part of his mind that was still paying attention to the world around him registered that he was in shock, but the rest of him couldn't be bothered with it. Diana was dead. As he pulled her into his arms, he was sure of it. Even through the thick dark fabric of her sweater, he could see blood welling up-slowly now, but he knew that it would be faster soon. There was nothing he could do. Diana was dying, his little Diana, and it was his fault. He should have locked her in, stolen the battery out of the truck. Jesus, he remembered the day she was born. How tiny and red she had been, and how at eight he had held his ears when she screamed. How they had played at cops and robbers and when she was older, had chased conspiracies together much to the consternation of his sister Mary. Conspiracies like the Illuminati, like the gargoyles. If he had just told her everything to begin with, she never would have followed him out here tonight. Never would have been in danger. He regretted never telling her the truth about Hacker, and all the things he had kept from her, more than he had ever expected to regret anything in his life.


	8. Life

The world had stopped. He couldn't tell how long he had been sitting there like that, if it had been seconds or hours, when he felt her body shift in his grasp. His eyes snapped into focus on whoever was trying to take her from him, and came to rest on her face. Her eyes were open. She was moving.

"Diana?"

The break in his voice took both Bluestones by surprise. The girl in question coughed and groaned, proving her consciousness. She felt like she had been kicked in the stomach and her lungs didn't seem to want to breathe, but there was another, brighter pain. She reached inside the pocket of her jacket and felt the jagged edge of a glass shard slice her finger, instantly realizing what had happened. She had never really expected to get shot, (who does?), and had never thought about what would happen if the equipment in her pocket was ever struck by a bullet. Well, her mother always said that she had to learn things the hard way. She tried to sit up but sucked in air sharply, saved from falling back to the ground by her uncle, who stared at her amazed by her seeming resurrection.

"Diana?" he asked again, stunned.

"Uncle Matt? Are you okay?"

"Diana, what just happened?"

"That'll have to wait you two," interrupted George. Matt absently scratched an itch on his cheek and was surprised to find it wet with tears he hadn't realized he was shedding.

"Our friend over there seems to have booby trapped himself. Whatever happened, he didn't blow, but he sure caught fire, and there'll be more like him on the way. Diana, you okay?" asked the old man.

"Fine George." He was about to argue, but from the look on her face, it would just take longer and have the same effect. "What about you three?" he asked again, gesturing at the gargoyles. Lex was the one who answered, repentant after his earlier show of temper.

"Broadway got hit in the arm, but he's okay. The female…"

"Twillo," prompted George.

"Twillo got hit in the wing, and so did I. We won't be able to fly tonight."

"Then we'll go with Dee's idea, as long as that's okay with you Officer?"

"I just…" Matt broke off with a sigh. He had thought that he had adjusted to all the weirdness in his life, all the uncertainties and risks, but tonight was like trying to watch a Spanish soap opera. Everyone was talking, but he felt incredibly out of the loop.

"Fine. Meet me in the parking lot of the Aerie building. But I'd better get one hell of an explanation when we get there."

Diana managed a small smile and took the hand he offered to help her to her feet, hugging him tightly but awkwardly, keeping her injured stomach out of contact with his. "I'm sorry," she whispered softly.

"Later," he replied, his voice thicker than he would have liked. Thankfully, everyone ignored it. He cleared his throat and was satisfied with the improvement it made.

"Broadway, can you fly?"

"Not with her," answered the web-eared gargoyle, shifting his still burden slightly.

"Put her in Diana's truck and we'll see you at the castle."

With that he turned and left. George put his good hand on Diana's shoulder, turning her towards the nearby truck.

"You scared the holy hell out of that boy you know," he said to her quietly. Her eyes shone with more than just the moonlight.

"I didn't mean to, but what else could I do? He would have gotten shot. He told me to wait back in the apartment, like a good little girl, while he went out, and I would still be waiting there, until the squad car came up in front." Her voice went from watery to ragged. "They probably would have sent Elisa. She's the only one I've really met, and she's his partner. She would have had me sit down, and told me a lie about how he had been shot down in the line of duty, when he would have been here, dying on the dirt from that man. I had to protect him!"

Broadway gently sat Twillo in the bed of the truck while George let Diana cry, holding her. She finished quickly, he noticed. She was a strong girl, if shaken by the close calls tonight. She would bounce back. He looked questioningly at her as she climbed clumsily into the back of the vehicle as well.

"I've got to get these chains off her," she said in explanation. "There should be a big grey blanket behind the seat, give it to me and let's go."

Lexington climbed into the cab of the truck with George apprehensively, not saying a word. He couldn't help but notice how the man winced whenever he tried to move the arm that Lexington's aggressiveness had broken. Diana covered Twillo with the blanket and they were going. Each bump they went over jarred each of them, to the point where Diana knocked on the sliding window in the glass. After a moment of fumbling, Lex found the clasp and opened it.

"Are you sure she's okay? I'm getting breathing and a heartbeat, but she's not moving." Diana had to shout over the wind to be heard.

"She fainted," Lex hollered back.

"Well, just tell George to move it. I'm worried about her. She's bleeding."

The homeless man nodded sped up as Lexington shut the window.

"You don't have to be afraid of me, boy," he finally said to the green gargoyle.

"I don't bite."

"I'm sorry, for before," Lex apologized nervously. "I just thought-"

"I can imagine what you thought, with that hammer above your friend."

"Actually, we've never met her before. You seem to know her."

"I helped someone in need of help, that's all. Unfortunately, for those fanatics with the hammers, that's enough. And that's not what she tells me."

"So it was her in the alley last night! Everybody said it was just a dream, from being hit on the head!"

"Well they'll soon find out they're wrong, won't they?"

By now they had made their way to the indoor lot of the Aerie building. Brooklyn's voice crackled over the radio.

"Hey, is that you guys coming in?" asked the red gargoyle. "Matt said to be looking for a beat up truck."

"Yeah, it's us," answered the smaller gargoyle.

"Matt's waiting in the elevator."

Between Matt and Lex they managed to get Twillo out of the bed of the truck. Diana had managed to remove most of the chains during the ride over, but the collar was beyond her. The white gargoyle woke with the movement and was able to walk with help to the elevator. They spent the ride up in uncomfortable silence, George noting the redness of the elder Bluestone's eyes but saying nothing. When they arrived at the top floor, they found not only the three gargoyles they expected, but Goliath and Elisa, done with the police work for the night. Neither looked particularly happy, but Matt was beyond caring.

"What is going on?" rumbled the large clan leader disapprovingly. "Brooklyn tells us that you went to save Demona from the Quarrymen, then Broadway arrives injured and saying that Demona was not there, that it was a stranger."

George and Lexington, who had been standing in front of Twillo, parted to show the female. Her eyes wide, she tried to draw her wings around her but was hampered by the remaining chains. Goliath's eyes glowed angrily to see a gargoyle thus bound, and he strode fiercely up to her, grasping the thick iron collar. She whimpered as his massive fists cracked the entire thing in two like a soda can. Diana gasped at what it revealed, grabbing a roll of gauze out of the first aid kit a severe looking blonde man was using to treat Broadway's gunshot wound. She pressed the bundle to the hole in the gargoyle's chest, soaking up the blood so that she could get a better look. When she removed the cloth, she was surprised and relieved to see that the puncture was not nearly as deep or as vicious as the gunshot wound it had first appeared. Elisa turned over the front portion of the collar, and found the lead slug sticking halfway through the worked metal, sharp tips of iron pointing inward. The collar had both harmed her and probably saved her life. Thank god he had been using regular bullets.

"Okay, now I've gotta ask. What on earth happened out there?" Nobody seemed particularly eager to answer the woman, so George stepped up and explained what had happened, glossing over his own injury. When he got to the part about the shooting, Goliath was ready to go out and hunt down whoever dared, but the homeless man was quick to explain that the issue was over, at least for the gunman. Elisa saw Matt's eyes glisten in the light for a moment, but he turned away as George told how Diana had been injured.

"So how did you survive?" asked Elisa finally. Diana, who had tended Twillo's wound with an efficiency that even Owen approved of, now blushed and mumbled into her hood.

"What's that?" asked Hudson, who had been with Goliath and Elisa. Diana raised her head, blushing further.

"My sweater. It's Kevlar." Now Matt stared at her, everything making sense.

"IT'S WHAT?" he demanded, just to be sure. Diana squirmed a little, but not as much as he had hoped.

"I made it out of the old vests I found in the dumpster behind the police department after you told me what a waste it was that they threw the old ones out. I didn't expect to get shot in the pocket."

Matt tilted his head backwards, closing his eyes. This night was about to be too much, but he had to ask.

"And what, might I ask, is in the pocket?" Diana raised the hoodie by the shoulders, pulling it up and over her head. Matt winced when he saw the mess of her stomach.

"Sit down," he said firmly. He expected another argument, but to his surprise she listened, allowing him to take tweezers to the shards of glass jutting from her skin. It seemed to calm them both, him concentrating on the wounds and her on dealing with the pain. She handed the non-broken contents of the jacket to Elisa, who couldn't help but be impressed at the kid's ideas. They could use people with this kind of initiative on the force, but from the look still on Matt's face, that would be a suggestion best saved for later. While the humans dealt with Diana, the gargoyles questioned their own.

"Where did you come from?"

"How did you get here?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Are there more of you?"

Twillo scooted back from the circle of friendly but demanding faces until she ran into something hard and round. Looking up, she found that she was sitting on Goliath's foot. The only sound she was able to make was a terrified choking wimper. Finally Hudson brushed the others back away from her, and seated her in his own favorite easy chair.

"Alright now all of ye, one thing at a time. Where did you come from child?" he asked her. Twillo began to speak, but found that something was holding her back. Hudson noticed the frustration on her face, and took it for hesitation.

"It's alright lass, you can tell us."

Owen adjusted his glasses, coming up behind the tan gargoyle.

"I'm afraid she cannot," he said dryly. Twillo looked up at the new stranger. There was something about his eyes that she couldn't place, and it made her head hurt. She couldn't look at him.

"Someone has placed a geas on the girl, to keep her from disclosing cetrain information," he continued, as if he were reading the boring headline of a newspaper.

"Is she dangerous then?" asked the eldest gargoyle doubtfully. Twillo's head snapped up.

"Please, I don't want to hurt anyone."

"She doesn't look dangerous," agreed Broadway, his arm now bandaged. Twillo smiled at him thankfully. He had carried her to safety when she was helpless.

"Is there not some way of being sure of her intentions?" asked Goliath. Twillo looked again at the thin, pale man he addressed. Those eyes, they distracted her.

"Something the Puck could do?" prompted the lavender gargoyle. His rumbling voice caused something to click within her. Her head stopped hurting.

"You!" she accused, before she could stop herself. All attention turned to her, and she shrank down into the chair, but had to continue.

"That's what's wrong with your eyes," she finished weakly. All of the gargoyles now regarded the face of their human companion with confusion.

"I don't see anything different," commented Brooklyn after a moment.

"Nor I lass," agreed Hudson. "What do you see?"

Twillo answered as best she could, unsure now.

"There's something behind them, watching me. That name you said, Puck. That's what's inside him."

If it were possible for Owen to look sterner, he did.

"Very astute, Miss, however unexpected. I think that now would be a good time for Alexander to have his lesson."

As if on cue, the red-haired child entered the room, earning stares. It wasn't the fuzzy yellow footie pajamas that earned the attention, nor the blue blanket tied around his shoulders like a cape. The remarkable thing was that he was walking a full foot above the floor.

"Unca Puck?" he asked quietly, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Yes Alex, it's time for Uncle Puck," replied Owen. He spun in place, light masking the exact moment of transformation, and began whizzing figure eights around Alex and Twillo, who had risen to her feet. Alex laughed, delighted. This was his favorite trick. The gargoyle tried to watch his movement but failed, dizzied. The same happened to Diana, who had entered the room now that the cops were done interrogating her. Their response was the both simultaneous and the same.

"STOP IT," they each cried, eyes closed, hands outstretched. To the Puck's surprise, he did, hanging suspended aloft, belly out on his way around Alex again but perfectly still. He shook himself like a wet dog, wiggling out of his place in the air.

"Okay, which one of you did that?" he demanded, distractedly looking between the two. The girls looked at each other, stunned but silent.

"No takers, eh? Well, no matter. Alex, fly to Uncle Puck. It's time for school!" The child floated up, allowing the faery to take the boy in his arms. He looked mischievously at the suspects in his sudden stop.

"Alright now, time for some magic. Puck pressed his finger to his lips, thinking for a moment. He quickly decided which spell he would have the boy use.

"On the heads of friends new,

Show if words be true.

False give black as night,

True make purest white."

The toddler mangled the words a bit, wiggling his fingers, and sparkles of black and white flew out of his hands towards Twillo, Diana, and George. On each of them a circular tattoo appeared a large grey dot in the middle of their forehead.

"Alright, first things first. Do any of you mean to harm those who live in this castle?"

Three no's and the dots all glowed a bright white.

"Well that's taken care of. Now, who are you, and how did you get here?"

All three began talking at once, making the Puck hold up his hands for silence.

"No, no, one at a time. You first," he pointed at Twillo. The gargoyle started tentatively.

"I woke up and couldn't remember anything. Ssssss-" it felt like her throat had filled with cotton, like her mouth had frozen. She shook her head and continued, omitting the word.

"Told me my name was Twillo, and told me to come here. I got lost, and was afraid after I helped that one-(she pointed at Lex) in an alley. George found me in his home, and helped me. Then the Quarrymen came, and then we were rescued by you. I-I feel like I should know more, but I can't remember." The dot on he head remained a bright white the entire time. When Twillo paused, overcome, Puck stared at her intently. When she was finished speaking, he gave her a look like she had personally insulted him.

"Hmm, not an amateur's work. I could break it, but it would tell whoever made it. I think we'll know soon enough anyway. Okay girlie, you're clean. Oh, one more thing! Was it you who zapped me?"

Twillo shook her head, eyes wide and dot flashing white and grey.

"You'll have to speak for the spell to work, toots," smiled Oberon's son.

"I don't know anything about zapping someone," she replied, shining white dot attesting to her honesty. The Puck looked downright disappointed.

"Alright old-timer, it's your turn. How did you get involved in all this?"

George kept his story short and to the point.

"I never had a problem with any gargoyle," he said, "And the girl needed my help. It'd be a fine world to live in if everybody only looked out for number one. Don't know how those hammer-heads found us, but I say it's for the better if it puts the girl back with her own. I'm not out to do anybody any harm, though. You can be sure of that."

The elf sighed. The spells on these two hadn't flashed once!

"Bo-ring! Who would have thought to find such a do-gooder in New York? How about you babe," he asked, gesturing at Diana. "You look…interesting."

To Puck's surprise and amusement, Diana had the gall to stick her tongue out at him before she started.

"I just wanted to help my uncle-"

"BZZZZT! Try again!"

"Alright, fine! I was curious. I wanted to see if the gargoyles were real! I knew he was keeping what he knew from me, and it hurt my feelings. I can't believe he didn't tell me! So I went to find out for myself, after I heard him talking about it over the radio. I never thought it would be dangerous-"

"Oh you didn't?"

The bemused look on Puck's face made Diana angry, but the fire in her voice died.

"I didn't think it would be that dangerous, but I wore my sweater anyway, to feel safe. I picked the lock on the door after Big Blue over there knocked out the guard, and pretended to be a new recruit so that they would show me the gargoyle they had. I found her and George cuffed in a little room, and we got out of the building okay, but then Uncle Matt saw us, and then I got shot, and it hurt like hell, and then we came here. So there, fairy-man. And no, I didn't zap you either."

Her spirit was bruised, but obviously not broken. As the glittering dust swirled itself into a ball in Puck's hand and disappeared, Twillo's stomach moaned, a blush flying over her skin as the two elder Xanatoses stepped into the room.

"It appears our guests are being neglected. Boys, Angela, could you four help our refugees find something in the kitchens?" While his request was both polite and mundane, they could all tell that his real goal was to have an 'adult talk' with the others. Brooklyn looked like he was going to argue, but his curiosity won over when Angela followed the others without question.


End file.
